


Greek Tragedies

by mellohi_muse



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Afterlife, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Inspired by The Fall of Icarus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Light Angst, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Theseus and the Minotaur - Freeform, Will add tags as I go, inspired by that one technoblade speech and my own love for greek mythology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29369571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellohi_muse/pseuds/mellohi_muse
Summary: When Technoblade called Tommy Theseus, it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing. As he launched into the rumored tales of the ancient people, he found himself drawing lines between all the people he knew and stories he loved. Being the melodramatic bastard he was, Techno took every opportunity to remind his peers that being heroic wasn’t always a good thing.Heroes don’t get what they want after all.
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	1. Theseus and the Minotaur

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading my first published fic. This will have a multiple chapters, right now I have 4 planned out. To clarify this is referring to the CC's characters on the Dream SMP, and is in no way meant to be interpreted as the actual people. 
> 
> Of course, if any of the CCs are uncomfortable with this fic, I will take it down!

When Technoblade called Tommy Theseus, it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing. As he launched into the rumored tales of the ancient people, he found himself drawing lines between all the people he knew and stories he loved. Being the melodramatic bastard he was, Techno took every opportunity to remind his peers that being heroic wasn’t always a good thing. 

Heroes don’t get what they want after all. 

<><><>

> _ “Come, then, with me, brave Theseus. Here is your own sword, which the guards deprived you of. You will need it; pray Heaven you may use it well.” - Adriane; Theseus, and the Minotaur. _

Tommy was sixteen. 

He didn’t want to be stuck reliving the memory of Technoblade telling him off for wanting his home safe. But the name Theseus was practically ingrained into his brain, and he couldn’t help but wonder more. 

_ “Do you think you’re a hero, Tommy? Is that what this is?”  _

Tommy did in fact find himself a bit of a hero. How could he not? He had given up his discs for his country; he had given two of his  _ lives _ . TommyInnit was sixteen, and he had lived through enough wars and near-death experiences for a lifetime. He fought alongside his brothers, his friends, to protect the country he had painstakingly helped build from the ground up. Tommy would give up everything and more for the people he called his friends and the place he called his home. 

So, of course, Tommy thought he was a hero. 

Not that he would tell Technoblade that.

-

Theseus was quite similar to Tommy. He thought about the story a lot during his exile, not that he would admit that Techno was right, but the man had basically predicted the future. That was the first time he had reflected on the story. 

He was alone in the stupid dirt shack Dream had given him out of pity. He had nothing important to his name except his beloved red and white t-shirt, the hole where his stuff had been blown up uncomfortably close to Tommy’s bed. It was pouring rain, and Tommy was so angry. 

Tommy had given up everything for L’Manburg, and they had exiled him in return. He could have fought every monster, given up every disc, killed Dream, saved Wilbur, protected Tubbo, and he had a feeling it would have never been enough. 

_ “He sent himself forward into enemy lines. He slayed the Minotaur and saved his city, and you know what they did to him, Tommy?”  _

Tommy’s heart lurched. 

_ “They exiled him.”  _

Now it made no fucking sense. The story was stupid, and at the moment Tommy wanted nothing more than to deck Technoblade across his ugly face. It was pointless. Tommy wouldn’t be exiled -- he had done nothing wrong. Not that this Theseus fella had either, but it was beside the point. Tommy could be a hero because being a hero isn’t a bad thing. 

Well, being a hero is a bad thing when it gets you exiled. 

By your best friend at that. 

-

The second time Tommy thought about Theseus was on the top of his wooden tower. It was dark, the sky full of stars, and Tommy felt nothing. He was empty and alone, and the only option he had left was to jump off this tower and off himself. It’s not like anyone cared, anyway. If they had, they would have visited him, they would have come to his party, they wouldn’t have exiled him in the first place.

_ “He died in disgrace, despised by his people.”  _

It was only fitting that he died there. If he was really the living walking version of some old story, he might as well finish it and follow through. Really, what did it matter to him? What did it matter to anyone?

Tommy had nothing, and he had given  _ everything _ . 

He was still holding onto the compass, engraved with  _ Your Tubbo _ . It was pointing home to his best friend, and it made his heart ache even more. Perhaps he would come back as some echo of his former self, maybe he would be like Ghostbur and people wouldn’t hate him. Because everyone at least kind of hated Wilbur, but Ghostbur was different. Nobody hated Ghostbur. And more than anything in the world, Tommy wanted people to miss him. 

Death would bring sadness and regret and guilt. He knew it would. It was almost selfish of him to think it, but he knew it was true. If Tommy died alone and sad, he hoped every one cried and locked themselves away. He wished that Tubbo would find out and hate himself for exiling him. He wanted there to be a big fancy funeral where people would talk about all the good things he did, instead of focusing on the bad. Maybe Dream would feel bad enough to give back the disc to Tubbo, in solidarity or some shit. 

But Tommy couldn’t jump because he was scared people wouldn’t miss him. 

He was scared people would move on without a second glance. 

And as Tommy realized Dream had never been his friend, he realized he didn’t want to be Theseus. 

_ Fuck your stories, Technoblade _ , he thought,  _ I’m making my own. _

Tommy leaped off the tower and pummeled toward the water below. It was freeing. Tommy was finally free. 

-

The third time Tommy recalled the story about Theseus was during his time with Technoblade. He had stumbled his way into his house and made himself a home underneath. Tommy didn’t want to be a bother, he just wanted to be safe. So frostbitten and starving, Tommy scarfed down golden apples like ambrosia and prayed to whatever god would listen that he survived. 

Technoblade had found him surprisingly quickly. The awkward space between them filled with pointless fights and name-calling. After all, Tommy was still angry at Techno. He had betrayed him and killed Tubbo like it was nothing. Tubbo wasn’t nothing, and it made Tommy angry to see him treated as such. 

But Technoblade was kind, as kind as he could be without ruining his ruthless reputation. He put up with Tommy’s antics. Techno gave him a bed and food and tools. He made Tommy feel protected, even though he wasn’t, even when Dream showed up questioning Techno about his whereabouts. Tommy was grateful for Techno, grateful enough to consider him a friend. 

So when Techno showed him his vault and proudly proclaimed; 

_ “Welcome home, Theseus!”  _

Tommy wasn’t sure being Theseus was a bad thing. 

\- 

The fourth time Tommy thought about Theseus was months later. The story had been forgotten and left behind with his turning against Technoblade. He was with Tubbo now, upon that monster of a mountain Dream had led them too. He was shaking with rage and fear and adrenaline. His ears filled with Dream's maniacal laughter.

Tubbo was standing behind him, his hand gripping Tommy’s arm like a vice. Dream had them completely at his mercy, standing over the cliff. All of their stuff was gone, the armor and tools they had worked for and been gifted blown up. And Dream was yelling about how stupid they both were and how small, but Tommy wasn’t focusing on that. Instead, his brain was trying to remember the words Techno had once told him. When Tommy had been given an hour in L’Manburg and he fell down the pit, barely saving himself. Techno had laughed as he hoisted the boy up. 

_ “Imagine if you’d died. It would have been perfect, Theseus died by falling off a cliff,”  _

And though he was pretty sure Techno hadn’t meant it at the time. He couldn’t help the growing dread in his system as he stood a few meters away from the cliff edge. A final death to fall damage seemed inevitable.

But Tommy would fight back with everything he had because Theseus was supposed to slay the Minotaur before he died, not die to it. 

When Tubbo said goodbye, Tommy had never wanted to die so strongly. He would have given his life for Tubbo’s at that moment. So he cursed and yelled and struggled against everything Dream said. 

When Punz came through the portal followed by everyone on the SMP (well, not Techno and Phil), Tommy found the tools to fight back. 

_ “Here is your sword, which the guards have deprived you of. You will need it. Pray Heaven that you use it well.”  _

So Theseus slayed the Minotaur with the Axe of Peace. 

-

The last time Tommy thought about Theseus was while he was sitting on his bench, safe. Tommy was safe after months of being in danger. Dream was in prison, Techno was far away, he had his discs; he had his Tubbo, and the sun was setting so sweetly over the SMP. The soft twinkle of “cat” rang through his ears. 

And though Theseus was meant to have been Tommy’s story, he wasn’t Theseus. He was Tommy, and he decided to finally let the bastard hero die in peace. He had no business living a legacy through Tommy. 

_ Farewell, brave Theseus _ , Tommy thought.

And with that came the end of his story. 


	2. Orpheus and Eurydice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, again! This is most likely my favorite chapter out of the ones I have planned. Orpheus and Eurydice is my favorite Greek story. There are so many cool adaptations out there (my favorites being Hadestown, and "Eurydice" by Sarah Ruhl). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

> “ _Orpheus, with his lute, made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing.” - William Shakespeare_

Technoblade had once compared Wilbur to Orpheus. The demigod and son of Apollo. With his music and his subsequent moodiness. Wilbur was a decent swordsman, but everyone knew his actual power was fighting with his words. That much was clear when he wrote a song for his country, a constitution, and multiple crazy speeches. 

But Techno had compared Wilbur to Orpheus years before, when Wilbur had met a young woman named Sally Salmon. 

Wilbur must have been 18 when they met, and Techno didn’t know the full story, because at the time he was off in the Hypixel cities fighting in the arenas and farming potatoes in his free time. But from what Techno could tell, it was a “love at first sight” kinda deal, and in his completely correct personal opinion, it was extremely cringe. 

Techno wouldn’t judge though, they seemed happy enough. He had visited once, and they had a kid running around. Fundy, they called him. He was a fox hybrid and a couple years older than Tommy. Phil said he was happy for them, even if they had rushed into family life. 

Wilbur loved Sally, he loved her with his whole being. He wrote her love songs and poems. Promises of a happy future and glory backed his declarations. Techno remembered the day he got news of Wilbur’s proposal, and Sally’s subsequent yes. He was happy for them, Techno still has the letter. 

Techno was on his way back to the Village for the wedding when he heard the news. It had shocked him so completely, that he didn’t sleep for three days just to get back to help Wilbur. 

Sally had died. 

Some kind of incident with cave spiders, Philza had told him. Nobody’s sure why she went into the cave, but she had returned home covered in bites and swollen from poisoning. It was not a pretty death. 

So Techno returned home to a funeral and not a wedding. 

And thus Wilbur got his name. 

“I miss her so much,” Wilbur had whispered one night. They were returning from a resource trip to the Nether. Phil had forced Wilbur to go, promising to take care of Fundy. Techno knew he needed a distraction, so they had refrained from speaking about Sally. Will got some of his anger out, killing ghasts and blazes. 

Techno wasn’t very good at talking, especially when it came to feelings. So he opted not to respond, and if Wilbur had more to say, there was space too. 

“Have you heard of the resurrection book?” Will asked, swinging his pickaxe lazily at his side. 

Techno’s eyes widened. Of all the things he was expecting to hear, that was the least of them, “Wilbur, that’s stupid and you know it.” 

“I don’t think it is!” he argued, “There’s some man from the Business Bay faction of Hypixel who has it. For the right price, I bet I-” 

“No price is worth it. Raisin’ the dead is risky for all parties involved, and even if Sally came back, she might not be the same,” 

“But she didn’t deserve to die!” 

“Does anyone?” 

Will scowled and hucked an egg he had been holding at a tree. 

“I knew you wouldn’t understand, it’s not like you’ve ever been in love,” 

Techno scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Alright, Wilbur, we get it you’re a hopeless romantic. All I’m sayin’ is bringin’ her back isn’t worth the cost.” 

“How would you know?” Wilbur shouted. 

“What if you died trying to bring her back? What about Fundy?” Techno countered. He kept his eyes on the horizon, the forest thinning out as they approached the Village. 

“Sally’s a better mother than I could ever be a father,” 

“Fundy might not have either if you try to bring her back,” 

The silence passed over them in a tense wave. Resurrecting people wasn’t a straightforward task. Nobody was even sure how it really worked. Sure, people knew rumors, but from Techno’s research, there was no actual evidence any of the resurrection attempts had worked. 

“Did I ever tell you about Orpheus and Eurydice?” Techno asked, risking a glance in Wilbur’s direction. He was scowling at him, but begrudgingly shook his head no. 

Techno took a deep breath and began slowing down as the lights of the Village came into view. 

“Orpheus was the son of Apollo, a demigod. He was extremely talented when it came to music, and one day he fell in love with Eurydice. Apollo didn’t approve of their marriage, and he sent someone to lure Eurydice to her death. She died on their wedding day, to poison oddly enough” 

Wilbur let out a short laugh, “Okay, keep going.” 

“Orpheus was overcome with grief, so he made the journey to the Underworld in an attempt to bring Eurydice back with him. He ends up singin’ a song and convincin’ the God of the Underworld to let her go,” 

“That’s a good thing!” Wilbur said, a small grin forming on his face. 

“I’m not done yet, Wilbur,” Techno sighed, “In order for Eurydice to make it safely out of the Underworld, Hades forbid Orpheus to look at her as they made their ascent up word. Eurydice walked behind him, and they began their journey.” 

Will waited for him to continue. 

“But Orpheus couldn’t wait, and he risked a glance at his lover, who he had missed so dearly. Eurydice was immediately sent back to the Underworld, forever. And overcome with grief, Orpheus allows himself to be killed as well, in some versions he kills himself,” 

“Good things don’t happen to heroes, Wilbur, and worse things happen to those blinded by grief in the name of love,” 

They stood in front of Philza’s house now, soft firelight visible through the windows. 

“Promise me you won’t go after that book,” Techno said. 

Wilbur gave him a pointed look and a sharp nod. 

“I promise,” 

-

Wilbur kept his promise, and he didn’t think about the story of Orpheus and Eurydice for a long time. He was busy raising a kid and eventually leading a revolution. Then running a country and losing his mind. 

But he found himself remembering it while he pressed the button. 

_“It was never meant to be,”_

None of it was. None of it was worth all the heartache and the pain. L’Manburg was a lost cause, and deep down Wilbur knew he was a lost cause too. He had tried for so long to be a good person, an excellent role model for Fundy, Tommy, and Tubbo. But they didn’t deserve what he had put them through. 

_“L’Manburg, my unfinished symphony, forever unfinished,”_

Wilbur raised his arms over his head as if he was the conductor of the chaos below him. He moved them in time with the Withers wreaking havoc and the turn of people running. Wilbur was laughing. He ignored the burning sensation in his arms. The stone crumbling under his feet only pushing him further from sanity. His music is _chaos_. It’s all he knows. 

Turning to his shell-shocked father, whose wings were badly damaged in the explosion, he gasped out, “Phil, kill me.” 

Phil’s eyes widened. He winced when he tried to raise his wings. 

“You’re my son!” 

“Phil, just do it, kill me! They all want me dead anyway,” 

He didn’t voice a smaller desire within him. _Maybe I’ll see Sally again._

If he couldn’t bring Sally back to life, he would resign his own and join her in death. _Just like the story,_ Wilbur thought morbidly. He begged his father to kill him, to slay him like the monster he was sure he was. 

And it surprised him when he felt the sting of his father’s blade pierce his skin. The burning sensation developed as he looked down at the sword stuck in his chest. He slumped forward, a laugh escaping his throat. Will was vaguely aware of hands grabbing his arms and hugging him close. Philza’s crystal blue eyes peered down into his own. 

“I’m sorry, Will,” Phil choked out, “I’m so sorry.” 

“Thank you,” Wilbur replied, struggling to get words out. He felt quite lightheaded, and the more he tried to think, the harder it got to form basic thoughts. His eyes slipped shut as his breathing got more labored. 

Inside the cavern above his unfinished symphony, Wilbur died happy.

-

It didn’t take long for Wilbur to realize he was in some sort of afterlife. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t waking up alone in an unknown place that reminded him of the Nether if it could be wet. The air was suffocating against his skin, and Wilbur found it unsettling when he realized he didn’t need to breathe. Death was strange, he concluded, and he was less than pleased to find out it appeared solitary. 

It didn’t stay that way for long, though. 

“Jesus fuck! Why are you here?” Wilbur heard someone groan from behind him. An all too familiar voice that caused an immediate eye roll. 

“I’m dead, Schlatt,” Wilbur replied, turning to the man. 

He laughed, “Damn, loverboy I can tell.” He pointed a finger to Wilbur’s chest, where the open wound from the sword was. Wilbur looked down, eyes widening in horror at how gruesome it looked. 

“Where are we?” Will asked, dusting his clothes off.

“Fuck if I know,” Schlatt replied, taking a swig out of the bottle in his hand, “Feels familiar here, but I can’t put my finger on it.” 

“It reminds me of the Nether,” 

“It reminds me of Manburg,” 

Wilbur turned to Schlatt, “How so?” 

“I don’t know, feels like it. See, that’s the white house, and your stupid drug van is over there,” 

Wilbur followed where Schlatt pointed his finger, and it was oddly reminiscent of L’manburg. Just ruined and dark. It was wrong, very wrong. 

“Do you think this is hell?” Wilbur questioned, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was. 

“Nah,” Schlatt took another swig of his drink, before offering it to Wilbur, “I think we’re in limbo.” 

-

The third time Wilbur thought about Orpheus was long into his time with Schlatt. Every day was the same. The two talked about their lives, their regrets. They shared Schlatt’s never-ending bottle of whiskey and shared cigarettes from his coat pocket. Time was also strange. Neither Will nor Schlatt knew how long they had been dead, and they we’re really quite disconnected from the living world.

As much as it was boring, it was fine, and Wilbur wouldn’t have wanted it much different anyway. Schlatt concluded they must have some sort of unfinished business, though neither of them was sure what that was. Wilbur figured his was L’Manburg, his _unfinished_ symphony. Schlatt had no idea. 

Then came the day, Wilbur never saw coming, the day he never wanted to come. 

“Schlatt, did you ever fall in love?” Will asked as they shared cigarettes on top of the camarvan. 

The horned man scoffed, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke in Wilbur’s face. 

“Nah, not really. Flings and bad relationships mostly,” 

“What about Quackity? Didn’t you guys get married or some shit?” 

“Eh, fiance or something. To be fucking honest, I have no idea. I don’t think I’ve been sober since I arrived in this godforsaken country,” Schlatt shrugged, “So what about you loverboy, ever fall in love?” 

“Sally,” Wilbur replied, “Her name was Sally.” 

“Did she leave you?” 

Wilbur chuckled at his bluntness, even though it hurt his heart to think about it. He really had expected to see Sally if there was an afterlife. He missed her. After all, the plan was to meet up with her here. 

“She died actually,” 

“Oh,” 

“It’s fine,” 

The silence stretched on. Orpheus was supposed to find Eurydice in the Underworld, and they were supposed to live together in the aftermaths of their death. So why didn’t it work out for Wilbur? 

“Well, at least we have drugs and alcohol,” 

Snorting Wilbur grabbed the whiskey bottle, “To coping,” and with that, he attempted to chug the potent drink. He ended up sputtering and coughing. The burn in his throat spread downward. But it didn’t feel exactly right. 

There was a pain in his chest that he couldn’t quite describe. 

On his next drink, there was a sudden searing agony in Wilbur’s chest and he doubled over, crying out in pain and shock. Schlatt swung his head towards him, narrowing his eyes, though he didn’t move. “You really can’t handle a bit of whiskey?”

“No, no,” Wilbur gasped, “It’s something else, holy shit.” It felt like his chest wound was reopening, blood seeping out of his chest, the old stain expanding. “I think—something’s—,”

He jerked backward, his entire body spasming from the pain. His vision blurred and spun wildly and shifted, and he was staring at someone. At Phil? But he was holding a sword in his hand—was he remembering his death? No, no, this couldn’t be a memory; their surroundings were different, and someone was screaming. It sounded like it was him but it definitely wasn’t him; the voice was lighter, an echoing voice, screaming in pain–

“Wilbur?” he heard Schlatt call, and there was a hand on his forearm.

Which was the worst possible thing the guy could’ve done. Suddenly both of them were there, in that in-between place, being ripped forcefully into a kind of half-life. He heard Schlatt shout and curse, and saw Phil and—and Fundy, too—and a sheep?; all stumbling back in shock.

“NO!” he gasped. “There’s no way this is happening!” 

And with great effort, he grabbed onto Schlatt and wrenched them both away until they crashed back onto the half-broken roof of the camarvan. They were back in limbo; they were safe. 

The pair sat hunched there, coughing and panting for breaths they didn’t need for a long moment.

“Those fucking idiots,” Schlatt said, his voice hoarse, “They’re trying to bring you back to life.” 

\- 

The most recent time Wilbur thought about Orpheus and Eurydice was in a whole new context.

It was different, though. He wasn’t being resurrected, but there was this annoying tug in his core driving him forward. The only actual damage it was causing was his whiskey spilling. Then it got stronger. 

“Are they trying to bring you back?” Schlatt asked, giving Wilbur a weary look. 

“No, I don’t think so,” 

The instant the words left his mouth, there was a violent tug in the center of his body. It yanked, and Wilbur stumbled forward, trying to catch himself on something. It pulled again, and he felt his feet slide against dirt and stone as he scrambled to keep his balance, trying to stop whatever was dragging him away—dragging him, he realized, towards a small white portal that had appeared. 

“Schlatt!” he yelled, kicking his legs. “Fucking help me!”

“Fuck that,” he heard Schlatt call back. “I’m not risking my own death!”

Wilbur almost laughed at that one. 

He thrashed against the invisible rope, scraping his knees and arms against the rock as he skidded closer to the portal. His fingers ripped against sharp edges as he scrambled desperately for _anything_ , grabbing onto tiny grooves in rocks only to be tugged further along by whatever force this was, whatever stupid magic was tearing him back to life. “Fuck,” he shouted, kicking, “no, no, no,” as the silver glow of the portal came into view—

And then there was a hand grasping his arm, and Schlatt was tugging him back, setting his feet and heaving him away from the portal. Wilbur cried out and renewed his efforts, fighting against the unseen force. He didn’t want to go back; he didn’t want to be alive anymore, why the fuck were they trying to bring him back –

It was too strong and wrenched Wilbur away with enough force to drag Schlatt along with him. They both fell to the floor and slid, and Schlatt scrambled to grab Wilbur again just as he was standing in front of the portal. Wilbur gripped onto him, terrified to let go. 

“Fucking hell,” Schlatt gasped, “these guys really miss your ass, huh?”

Wilbur laughed breathlessly and felt the force jerk him again with insistent, gut-wrenching strength. Something inside of him snapped, and with a resigned smile, he said, “I wish they didn’t.”

“Loverboy, I don’t think I can keep holding on to you,” 

Wilbur nodded, “Thanks for trying,”

And with that, he let go of Schlatt and disappeared through the portal. 

-

It was uncomfortably bright in this unknown world. There was nothing but blinding whiteness everywhere he looked, and it burned. This wasn’t life, but it wasn’t his limbo, and it dumbfounded Wilbur. 

“Hello, Alivebur,” he heard hesitantly behind him. He recognized the echoey voice as the one he heard during his failed resurrection. Will whipped around to be face to face with the ghost of his own self. A yellow sweater and red beanie. He looked scared, his hands were fidgeting. 

“Alivebur?” Wilbur found himself asking without thinking. 

“I’m Ghostbur, I’m not you,” he replied too quickly. 

Wilbur blinked, even more confused than before, “Where are we Ghostbur?” 

“The Inbetween,” the ghost looked sad, “It’s where transitions take place, it’s a resting spot for travelers.” 

“Are they trying to bring me back?” 

Ghostbur shook his head, “No, but I think I know what is going on.” 

Wilbur wanted to groan in frustration. This ghost of himself was being cryptic and too damn nervous. 

“Well,” Wilbur coaxed him on, “Look, I’d rather go back to Limbo or wherever the fuck I was before.” 

“You can’t,” Ghostbur blurted. 

“Why not?” 

“You don’t have any unfinished business anymore, you’re free to move on,”

That made no fucking sense. 

“But L’Manburg? It’s blown up. Even if Tubbo tried to fix it, L’Manburg will never be the same. It’s meant to be unfinished,” 

Ghostbur sighed, “It was never L’Manburg.” 

“Well then, what was it?” 

“That’s for you to figure out,” Ghostbur choked out, “And if your business is finished, there’s no reason for me anymore. So, I’m giving you this chance to find out what it was. I’m giving you a chance to say goodbye.” 

“I don’t understand,” 

“Take my hand,” 

Ghostbur held his hand out, even though it looked like it pained him to do so. The ghost looked heartbroken, his hand shook, and bright blue tears rolled down his cheeks. 

“Are you sure?” Wilbur confirmed, guilt bubbling up in his chest. 

“I’m sure, say hello to Friend for me,” 

Wilbur grabbed the hand of his ghostly counterpart. A blue ink spread from the ghost hands and up Wilbur's arms. The forceful chill passed through his body as the ghost melted into memories, and the whiteness consumed Wilbur. It was overwhelming. Bright flashes of images and snippets of conversations filled his brain. It took him a second to realize it was all of Tommy. 

Tommy in exile, alone and afraid. 

_Tommy was exiled?_

His aura was blue-grey, and it faded every time Dream came around. He heard things like “I’m your only friend”, “they all hate you”, “Tubbo threw his compass in the fire”. None of it made sense, but he watched Tommy break. His clothes became ragged, his face beat up, his world dark and stormy. Wilbur watched as Tommy climbed a tower and he held his breath as Tommy prepared to jump. 

Then Tommy was alone and wandering in the snow. His lips blue, and his face chapped from the wind chill. Then a vision of someone strong, someone in a crown, saving Tommy from the cold. They gave him a home; they gave him a friend. 

Wilbur recognized it as Technoblade. 

Tommy got better, the color bleeding back into his aura. Techno and Tommy were quite the team. Techno wanted revenge on L’Manburg, Tommy wanted his discs. They got supplies and laughed; it made Wilbur happy. Big brother Techno (though he would never admit it to anyone, not even himself) protected Tommy from Dream and the rest of the world that had been too harsh on him. 

Then there was water and the community house in shambles. Tommy rising out of the shadows, defending his honor against Dream. Tubbo and Tommy fought, Dream took his disc, and Tommy betrayed Technoblade in a spray of red light. And L’Manburg was gone, but worse than before. The L’Mantree was burning, and behind it, L’Manburg was going up in smoke and explosions. 

Wilbur heard things that broke his heart. 

_“The discs were worth more than you ever were!”_

_“I’m a person too!”_

_“The camarvan is gone, it’s all I had left of Wilbur, it’s all I had left of him.”_

_“It was never meant to be.”_

White-hot lightning flashed through Tommy’s body in an electrifying realization. He saw his ghost screaming and crying about how unfair it was. Tommy watched the world through rose-colored glasses, but not because he thought it was beautiful, but because he thought it was evil. 

He saw Tommy and Tubbo learn how to be friends. He watched as Tommy gained allies and apologized for his actions. Tommy worked hard and made a plan. His little brother was getting ready to fight Dream. 

Flashes of the fight crossed his mind, causing a brain splitting headache to form behind his eyes. That unsettling smile a constant in the background. They fought with their hearts; the discs were their hope. He watched them get defeated, Tommy desperately clinging to Tubbo like he was a lifeline. Dream, the green bitch, threatening his brothers and everything that made them who they are. 

_“Who am I without you?”_

_“Yourself.”_

He heard Tommy’s inner thoughts so loud he thought his eardrums would break. 

_“Who am I without you? Who am I if I lose you like I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved. Who am I if I lose you like I lost Wilbur, like I lost Techno, like I lost Phil.”_

In a wave of purple light, they were safe. Dream was down, his heart beating like a drum, and Tommy stood above Dream holding a glimmering axe and saving himself. 

The visions calmed down; the lighting becoming softer. A music disc played softly in the background. Tommy and Tubbo were safe on their bench, watching the sunset over the hill. And it took Wilbur a minute to realize he was actually there with them, hearing them laugh. It took him a minute to realize he could reach out. 

“Tommy, we won!” he heard Tubbo say, relieved. 

Wilbur took a deep breath, “And you’re not dead.” 

Tommy went rigid, “Ghostbur?” 

“Ha,” Wilbur huffed, “I’m not Ghostbur, but quite frankly Tommy I’m very impressed.” 

“Uh, hello?” 

“Hello, have you missed me?” 

“Wilbur, how are you here?” Tommy asked. He sounded scared. 

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Wilbur replied. He figured Tommy couldn’t see him, “I got dragged here, pulled to the plane where my world meets yours. Really, thank you for saving me from that Schlatt fellow, I’ve been stuck down with him for three bloody months, and—” 

“Where’s Ghostbur?” 

“I don’t know where that crazy son of bitch has gone,” Wilbur laughing, trying to make light of the conversation. 

Tommy’s faces scrunched up into some sort of scowl. 

“But you’re dead. You are dead, right?” 

Wilbur chuckled at that, “Of course I’m dead.” 

“Well,” Tubbo questioned, “Do you want to be alive again?” 

It didn’t take Wilbur long to find an answer. 

“Oh hell no, no god—I was just—I was just coming here to check on you,”

“I’m quite unsettled by your presence,” Tommy finally said, glancing at Tubbo. The brown haired boy nodded hesitantly, agreeing. 

“I hear that from women a lot,” Wilbur said, trying to get Tommy to laugh, but Tommy did nothing, “Look, I don’t know how long I’ve got left here, and I was called here for a reason. So tell me why I’m here, tell me how you did it!” 

Tommy took a long shuddering breath, “We can bring you back.” 

Wilbur’s mind went blank. 

“We didn’t kill Dream because he can bring you back,” 

He didn't know how to respond, other than to react on the bubbling anger in his chest. 

“What the fuck have you done!” Wilbur shouted, “If he brings me back, he’ll obviously bring Schlatt back. I don’t even want to be alive, I was—I was finally free! You stupid child. You’re—you’re gonna kill Casper the Friendly Ghost, for me!?” 

“I am not a FUCKING CHILD, WILBUR!” Tommy yelled back. 

“You are a ridiculous child! I can’t believe you would do something so—” 

“You are an ugly grown-ass man if I ever saw you in the street I—”

“Tommy,” 

“I would have a knife, and plunge it into your neck—” 

“Tommy!” 

“And be like, oops! L!” 

“I’m proud of you, Tommy, I’m proud of you,” Wilbur finally got out, a smile growing on his face. Tommy blinked, stunned, before a grin of his own formed. Tubbo laughed. 

“See you soon, Wilbur,” Tommy resigned, looking out over the horizon. 

“See you soon, Toms,” 

And as Wilbur faded back into wherever he was going back to, he felt a bit better. He had finally realized what his unfinished business was. 

His unfinished symphony was never L’Manburg. 

It had always been Tommy and making sure Tommy was safe with his discs.

Wilbur thought about the story. He always thought that Eurydice would want to be saved, he thought Orpheus was a hero. But what if Eurydice never wanted to be alive again? What if she wanted to live out her afterlife in peace?

Now the problem with this was, Wilbur had always thought of himself as Orpheus. 

But he had never considered that he could be Eurydice. 


	3. The Fall of Icarus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fundy's close calls with the sun and sea. Or, our favorite fox boy as Icarus.

> "Icarus flew too close to the sun, but at least he flew." - Jeremy Robert Johnsen

Technoblade called them Fundy’s close calls with the sun. It had started as something of a joke, one night in Pogtopia. When Wilbur was ranting about his son being a traitor for working with Schlatt. L’Manburg’s old flag burned to a crisp by the general’s son. 

_How poetic_ , Techno thought. 

It was the fire that sparked the idea for his name. 

Icarus the winged boy who flew too close to the sun. But there was more to the story. The kid who grew up in a tower, his freedom making him foolish. Fundy was the spittin’ image, Techno decided. 

<><><>

For most of his life, Fundy had known cages. When he was little, Wilbur’s paranoia about Sally’s death led to him being overprotective of his son. The world was always too harsh, too scary, too dangerous for Fundy to go out and explore it. But more than anything in the universe, Fundy wanted to see it all. He wanted to meet new people and get into sticky situations. Fundy wanted to travel around making people laugh with his talents. 

He watched Tommy and Tubbo leave on their own adventure with jealous eyes and a resentful heart. Wilbur simply shook his head when Fundy asked to leave and suggested he pick up a hobby like building things. 

So he did. Growing up around Philza had taught Fundy a thing or two about the architectural side of buildings. He learned how to create a building with a function as well as design. What he really loved was tinkering with redstone. Every mining trip brought sackfuls of the unused material. Phil only used it when adding redstone lamps or an automated lighting system. Fundy liked to create elaborate machines, things to make life easier. So by seventeen, Fundy was one of the most skilled redstone engineers in the world. 

Fundy received a letter in the mail one day, the penmanship sloppy but the message clear. 

Dream had invited Fundy to work for him.

_The_ Dream was asking Fundy to go be an architect and engineer for his new server, the Dream SMP. Just reading about it filled his head with ideas. It was a simple contract. In return for living there all Fundy needed to do was help build the structures needed in the city and surrounding area. Tommy and Tubbo had just moved that way too. It only made sense that Fundy followed. 

“Dad!” Fundy yelled. He grabbed his hat and brushed redstone dust off his jacket. The fine powder coated everything. It was practically impossible to get completely off. “Dad! Can I speak to you?” 

The fox hybrid left his workshop, to find his father sitting on the porch of their house. The afternoon sun washing out everything in its wake. 

“Good afternoon, Fundy! I hope you’re having fun,” Wilbur called back. He took a swig of his drink and beckoned Fundy closer. 

“Dad, can I talk to you about something?”

Fundy took a seat next to his father and gratefully accepted the cold drink offered to him. Wilbur nodded, an easy-going smile relaxing on his lips. It was enough to convince Fundy that his question would go over smoothly, that he wouldn’t have to beg his Dad to let him leave. 

“You know, I’m almost eighteen,” Fundy started, trying to gauge his father’s reaction, “And just got a letter from Dream. Well, he—he gave me an offer, to go work for him in exchange for residency. I’d finally be able to show off my talents in a place that needs them!” 

“Are you asking to leave?” Wilbur questioned. 

Fundy confirmed, “Yeah, I’m asking to leave.” 

“It’s too dangerous, Fundy,” then Wilbur stood up and walked inside. He left no room for further conversation, just wandered inside, leaving Fundy dumbfounded on the porch. Fundy’s ears drooped, he wasn’t expecting such a blatant no. 

“Dad, come on! I’m not a kid anymore,” Fundy argued, “Plus, Tommy and Tubbo are there, so it’s not like I’ll be alone.” 

“You know nothing about the real world! I don’t want you to get hurt,” 

“I know nothing about the real world because you hid me from it!” Fundy let out an exasperated sigh, his hands in tight fists at his side. He never understood why his Dad was so protective of him, especially when he got to his teen years. It wasn’t like Fundy was stupid, childish, sure, but not stupid. 

“I hid you so you wouldn’t die!” 

“Well, I don’t need your protection anymore,” 

Fundy didn’t want to bother arguing anymore. It’s not like he needed Wilbur’s permission to leave, he just wanted him to be proud of him. He wanted his Dad to recognize that Fundy had talents other people appreciated and wanted to see. 

Inside his workshop, Fundy began packing his bags. 

Whether Wilbur gave verbal permission for him to leave or not, Fundy would be headed to the Dream SMP tomorrow. 

-

It was early when Fundy decided to leave. The sun had just barely peaked up, leaving the sky a burning pink. He wasn’t sure if he was going to go say goodbye. There was a note in his workshop that explained everything, but there was a lot of guilt involved with just running away. When Wilbur had taken Fundy in, he was just a scrawny orphan with no family and no home. Sally had been kind, and Wilbur was everything Fundy wanted to be and more. The Village will always be a safe haven in his mind, even if it had become a prison. 

In the fields was Philza, farming potatoes and enjoying the early morning. At the very least, Fundy could say goodbye to him. The soft squish of dirt underneath his feet was comforting as he approached the winged man. 

“Philza!” he called out. 

Phil turned, his striped bucket hat casting a dark shadow over his face. 

“Morning Fundy! Have you come to help me farm potatoes?” 

“No, no,” Fundy replied, adjusting his own hat, “I’ve actually come to say goodbye.” 

“Ah, yes. I had a feeling you might be,” 

“You knew?” 

Phil nodded, “Will, came to me in a panic last night, talking about how you wanted to leave. I managed to talk to him though, he can’t keep your wings tied up forever.” 

“Is he...okay with it?” Fundy questioned. 

“I think he’s accepted that you aren’t a child anymore,” 

Fundy looked back at his house, smoke coming out of the chimney. Surely Wilbur was up by now. He probably didn’t even go to bed, he was known to do that when he got anxious. 

“I’ll go say goodbye then,” Fundy said slowly. 

Phil smiled at him softly, “Give me a hug before you go.” He outstretched his arms and wings, an invitation that Fundy gladly accepted. The firm embrace of his third parent (since he hated being called Grandza), was soothing. For as much as Fundy was ready to leave, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was absolutely terrified about what was going to come. 

“I’ll see you later, Fundy,” 

“Goodbye, Phil!” 

The fox hybrid ran over to his father’s house and practically knocked the door down. Sure enough, Wilbur was sitting on a chair, holding a neatly polished diamond sword. 

“I made you this,” Wilbur said as he stood. He walked toward Fundy, the sword outstretched, “I figured if you’re going away, you should be able to protect yourself with something.” 

Fundy took it and felt the weight of it in his hands. It glimmered with enchantments and was comfortably heavy. Wilbur had only ever allowed Fundy an iron sword his entire life, holding the diamond one felt forbidden. 

“Thanks, Dad,” Fundy whispered, “Thanks for trusting me.” 

“Of course, son,” he gave Fundy an affectionate hair ruffle and a scratch behind his ears. 

“Come visit someday,” 

“I will,” Wilbur replied, trying to blink tears out of his eyes, “Now get out of here and make me proud.” 

“I promise I will,” 

“Goodbye Fundy,” 

“Bye, Dad.” 

<><><>

After a few months of being on his own, Fundy had settled into his newfound freedom. In short, he absolutely loved it. He had the space to be creative and funny with his new friends, and there were no limits to how far he could go. People liked him and what he could bring to the table. It made Fundy feel secure in himself, like he never had before. 

Fundy was currently in his house smelting some iron and dyeing wool for a new project. Then came a knock at the door. 

“Fundy!” 

“Coming,” he replied, his supplies left behind. Opening the door revealed a disgruntled Sapnap. His messy black hair was kept out his face with a thin piece of white fabric tied around his head. He was wearing full diamond armor and a scowl that put Fundy on edge. 

“Is everything alright?” Fundy asked. 

“Your Dad is trying to start his own country,” 

“Wilbur’s here?” Fundy said, surprised. He had no idea Wilbur would be coming to visit, much less staying. 

“Yes, and he’s being an ass,” Sapnap said, leaning against the door, “Look when people come here, they sign a contract, it’s simple. Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, and Eret are all breaking said contract. Dream wanted me to see if you could talk them out of it.” 

“Uh, sure, I’ll try,” Fundy replied. But his anxiety had already planted a seed of dread in his stomach, and it was rapidly growing up. The thought that his dad had been invited here without Fundy knowing was stressful, to say the least. 

“Great, I’ll take you to them,” 

It wasn’t too far away, and still within the general vicinity of the server. Fundy had no idea what to say. How does a person even start a conversation with their father about not starting their own country when they haven’t even said hi to you first? How long had Wilbur even been here? A week? A few days? 

In the center of it all was a caravan and holding open the door to the caravan was Wilbur. He was in a royal blue coat and a revolutionary’s hat. His Dad looked happy, and Fundy had missed him, but it was weird to see him here now. 

“Fundy!” Wilbur called out upon seeing him. 

“Wilbur,” he replied, forcing a smile. 

Sapnap gave Fundy a pat on his shoulder, “Good luck.” 

Fundy took a deep breath, ignoring his gut, saying it was a bad idea. In the distance, Tommy and Tubbo were bickering. Eret was sorting through chests. Wilbur was beckoning him closer. 

“Hello, my son!” Wilbur met him halfway. He engulfed him in a hug, and Fundy tried his best to not let his tension show, “I’ve missed you.” 

“Yeah, me too,” 

“So, L’Manburg! Are you going to join the revolution?” Wilbur began walking back toward the caravan. He opened the door for Fundy, and he followed inside. The interior was cozy, a few furnaces and brewing stands lined the walls. 

“Wilbur, I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” 

“Oh, Fundy, don’t be that way,” Wilbur chastised, “Tommy gets terrorized by that Dream fella, all of his goons are a fucking police force. They do whatever they please, and if someone gets in their way, they throw ‘em in jail!” 

Wilbur had a point. He could agree that Dream’s rules were weird and oddly strict. The whole disc conflict between Dream and Tommy had always confused Fundy, but he knew things weren’t perfect in the SMP. 

“But, you signed a contract—”

“It means nothing if the ruler is going to be tyrannus! Fundy, this nation stands for freedom, and I want you to be here with me. I want my son on my side because I love you.” 

_Oh._

If L’Manburg was going to stand for freedom, which Fundy had wanted more than anything, then maybe he could join his father. It wasn’t like Wilbur had followed Fundy here to keep him from living his life. 

“Alright,” Fundy said, letting out a sigh, “I’ll join.” 

Wilbur’s eyes lit up, “You will!?” 

“Yeah, I’ll do it. For freedom, for you,” 

His dad was practically dancing around the caravan, his happiness was contagious. 

“Fundy, someday, you’ll inherit this country, and you’ll blow us all away,” Wilbur smiled as he grabbed some whiskey from a cupboard, “I’m going to do everything I can to fight for you, to make this country right for you, my son.” 

He poured out two shot glasses of whiskey, handing one to Fundy and keeping the other for himself. 

“For the revolution,” Wilbur grinned, downing the alcohol. Fundy followed suit, coughing and sputtering as the liquor burned his throat. 

As nightfall crested, Wilbur took Fundy to a temporary house. He even gave his son a uniform to wear, though it was different from the ones he had seen Tommy and Tubbo wearing. Wilbur shrugged it off as Fundy being young, practically still a boy. Fundy bit his tongue to keep himself from saying Tommy and Tubbo were boys too, children, both younger than him. 

He slept that night, but not without worries. 

-

When Fundy stumbled out of his house, the next morning, he was expecting to see the sun rising over the trees. He wanted to watch the way the light reflected over the river water and maybe admire the skyline of the SMP in the distance. 

But everything was black. 

_There were walls._

Tall black walls that Fundy couldn’t see over. 

He was running to find Wilbur before he had even registered what it meant. 

“Wilbur!” he yelled, “What are the walls for?” 

His Dad turned to greet him, “Well morning to you too—and obviously, they’re for protection. Most importantly your protection.” 

“Right,” Fundy replied, his heart sinking in his chest. 

_L’Manburg was supposed to stand for freedom, but all it felt like was a cage._

-

War was difficult on all parties involved. People get hurt, both sides lose resources and gear, and overall you lose yourself. When everything you know is explosions and fired arrows, you get used to chaos. 

Fundy didn’t realize how hard it would be at first. To be in a constant state of paranoia, never knowing if sleeping will be safe, or if the food you eat isn’t poisoned. War was exhausting, and it took its toll on every single one of them. Dream was determined to keep L’Manburg from becoming its own nation, and Wilbur was just as determined to make sure it did. 

Fundy had his first close call with the sun in the final control room. 

It had all happened so fast. Eret leading them to his secret base filled with unbelievable treasures. Fundy ignoring the cool tingle of his invisibility potion as they crouched through the tight tunnels. Tommy and Tubbo excitedly opening chests to find nothing. Eret pressing the button. The enemy team jumping out from the walls wielding weapons. 

Fundy had tried to hide, praying his invisibility pot would protect him. He heard Tubbo scream as Sapnap stabbed him through the stomach. The kid’s body slumping over before disappearing in a flash of light. 

Wilbur’s cry of, “A traitor!” before he met a similar fate. 

Tommy’s disgruntled yell while he ran away, fear so clear in his eyes. 

Fire licked up Fundy’s arms when George hit him with his enchanted sword. The Burn quickly spread upward. They had spared everyone else a quick death, but Fundy had to deal with flames engulfing him as George slashed at him with a sword. Fundy was the only surviving member of L’Manburg who heard the most important quote on the server. 

_“Down with the revolution, boys. It was never meant to be.”_

Fundy took the last gasps of his first life, thinking about the way fire burns. 

He woke up in his bed, scrambling away from phantom fire, his heart beating wildly in his chest. 

Fundy would have compared the feeling to the sun, but he hadn’t met it yet. 

<><><>

Fundy was a damn good spy. He had tricked everyone into thinking that he supported Schlatt. At first, he thought the guy wasn’t that bad. In fact, Schlatt acted so unlike Wilbur, it was refreshing. 

Fundy didn’t care when Schlatt asked him to tear down the walls, because Fundy had wanted them gone the second he was ‘born’ inside them, as Wilbur had put it. He wasn’t a child who needed protection anymore. So the walls came down without resistance, even when Niki looked at him with disgust, even when Tubbo wasn’t sure he could trust him. He knew about the rebellion being planned within the walls, by Schlatt’s right-hand men, because they were awful spies. They were sloppy. 

Fundy would do anything to make sure Schlatt trusted him enough to not get caught, even if it meant biting his tongue at the name change. 

“Fundy, we need a new flag,” Schlatt had said offhandedly. They were in the White House mostly for show, Schlatt liked to sit around and drink protein shakes while he talked at various members of his cabinet. “Manburg needs a rebrand, and I think you’re the man to do it.” 

_Oh_ , Fundly liked that, being called _a man_. 

“I can do that,” 

Schlatt’s smile grew, “But first, I want you to burn that fucking flag to the ground.” 

-

Fundy was quiet about it. He made his way to the flag, and scaled up the pole, trying to ignore the weight of the flint and steel in his pocket. With the walls gone, the flag was the last thing that really defined the L’Manburg of Wilbur’s administration. 

“Fundy!” Niki yelled, “What are you doing?” 

He glanced down, making eye contact with his friend. 

“I’m burning the flag down,” 

She reeled back, the hurt visible across her face, “Don’t you dare burn that flag, I spent so long on it.” 

It’s true. Niki spent hours sewing the giant flag together. Fundy had kept her company while she did it, but the flag couldn’t stay. Not with Schlatt wanting it gone, not with this going to be the thing that solidifies Schlatt’s trust in Fundy. The flag would go up in flames and set a new era for Manberg, for better or for worse. Fundy needed Schlatt to trust him, and he needed everyone else to believe he was on Schlatt’s side. It was the only way they could take the man down from the inside. 

Still, it made Fundy’s heart twist to know Niki might never look at him the same after today. He knew this would shatter her already broken heart. With a shake of his head, Fundy used the flint and steel to catch the end on fire. The wool went up in flames easily. 

“No!” Niki screamed, running toward the base of the flag. 

“Down with the flag!” Fundy sneered, ignoring the way the fire burned the hair on his arms. He came back down quickly, watching the flag burn away. 

Niki was crying, and Eret must have heard her screaming because they were here too. Niki and curled into Eret, her sobs muffled by their clothes. 

“Fundy, you bastard!” 

_It’s fine_ , Fundy thought, _They won’t be mad at me forever._

Besides, Eret didn’t have room to judge. 

It was never meant to be, right? 

-

“I don’t know if Wilbur will ever trust you, Icarus,” Techno had sighed, escorting Fundy out of Pogtopia. The Spy’s Diary tightly clutched against his side. 

“Icarus?” Fund scoffed, “You know my name’s Fundy.” 

Technoblade snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, “Think of it as a nickname. You know, the boy that flew too close to the sun when he was finally free. His carelessness got him killed.” 

Fundy stiffened, “I did not know that.” 

“Well, the story reminds me of you,” 

They walked until Techno was sure they were far enough away from Pogtopia to let Fundy go back to L’Manburg freely. 

“All I’m sayin’ is stay away from the spotlight, it might melt your wings,” 

-

Schlatt was nothing by the end of it all. Just a man on a stage with no actual power besides what people gave him, which at this point was nothing. Everyone was against him, that much obvious by the way they all surrounded him in the caravan. Schlatt was drunk out of his mind.

To quote his diary; “He is unaware of how, in reality, he stands alone. Schlatt has no power, his entire stand is a facade. In fact, he is at his weakest point as we speak.”

It was pitiful really, watching the man drink himself to death. 

“Fundy!” Schlatt slurred, “The fuck are you doing here?” 

Fundy pinched the bridge of his nose, “Schlatt are you fucking drunk?” 

“Oh you bitch,” he snarled, his eyebrows furrowing. The bottle in his hands came up in a half-hearted attempt to throw it at Fundy. Which he easily deflected with his armor. When that failed, Schlatt restored to swing disoriented punches at him, the alcohol he had consumed reeked off of his breath, and it made Fundy’s mouth water from nausea. 

“Listen! Schlatt, listen,” he cried out, fighting the man off of him. To no avail, the horned bastard kept hitting and screaming. “Schlatt! Listen, goddamn it.” 

A hushed whisper fell over the crowd as Quackity and Eret restrained Schlatt in front of him. 

“Schlatt, you fucked up the country, you fucked up everything,” Fundy found himself saying, his voice breaking to his own surprise. “You had a dream, and I followed it, but you brought it downhill. Everything, you ruined it. You ruined everything we had. I—I thought you were something.”

Maybe it was because Fundy had been so focused on bringing Schlatt down he couldn’t figure out why he was so angry at him. Why he was so angry at everyone, really. 

“You know what Fundy, I am something,” Schlatt laughed, downing more of his drink, “I’m something you’re not.” 

“What am I not?” 

“I’m a man, Fundy,” 

So fire’s not the only thing that burns.

-

_“If I die, this country’s going down with me.”_

The ground was shaking, and then everything seemed to freeze. 

The ringing in Fundy’s ears was unbearable, and he lost his footing when the ground fell away beneath him. Buildings crumbled before him, and shouts could be heard around the battlefield. There was a sharp pain in his left leg from when it took the brute of the explosion. He scrambled for water like he had so many times before, desperately trying to shout out for anyone, but the ringing was too loud for him to hear himself. The buildings around him came crashing down, rubble and splintering wood blasting away from its original home. 

Spitting water out of his mouth, Fundy resurfaced, his fur and clothing drenched in the dusty water. He tried to get the water off of his face so he could see what had happened. 

But all Fundy could focus on was Phil, a diamond sword in hand, and Wilbur waving his arms like a lunatic in front of him. He watched as Philza plunged the sword through his Dad’s chest; he watched as it all clicked in his brain. 

_The one time I needed you_ , Fundy thought, _and you ruined it all just like Schlatt._

<><><>

“Just listen!” Fundy yelled, hot tears rolling down his face. Wilbur’s stupid ghost kept following him around, kept acting like things were okay, but things were _not_ okay. He acted like dying gave him a pass for betraying all of them and being an awful father. Ghostbur didn’t like the truth. 

“Do you even know what’s wrong?” Fundy questioned, “I mean, does it even break through?” 

The ghost gave Fundy a sheepish smile, and he turned back to his potions. A delighted smile crossing his face as he finished them. 

“You just avoid everything! You just get to run away from any serious consequence that comes through your actions, you—you just walk away from it!” Fundy let out a frustrated laugh, “You think everything is fine when it obviously is not.” 

Philza gave both of them a sympathetic nod, and Fundy took a deep breath before feeling like he could continue. 

“You were there for me for a very very fucking long time. And then when I needed you the most, you skedaddled the fuck out of my life, and died.”

Which was hard for Fundy to admit, because the entire time his dad had been alive, he thought he wanted freedom from him. But what he really wanted was for Wilbur to just be his dad. Not the leader of a revolution, not someone who polices his every move, not a president, or a villain, he just wanted a dad. 

“You—you blew up L’Manburg for what? Your principles? For justice? That, that wasn’t justice! I mean, you left me, man, you left me,” 

Ghostbur shivered, “Next ingredients then.” 

The ghost hummed to himself, placing various ingredients into the brewing stand. Fundy shook his head, an angry frown gracing his face. 

“You never take things seriously,” 

“I don’t remember those things though! I don’t remember doing them,” Ghostbur countered, finally giving Fundy the decency of a glance. 

“Do you want to know what happened after our last ‘good’ talk?” Fundy asked, emphasizing his point with air quotes. 

“I mean if I don’t remember, then it probably wasn’t worth remembering,” He continued sorting through chests, eventually settling on a fishing rod, “Let’s go fishing!” 

Phil looked at Fundy and shook his head, an apology. 

“Well, this has been a lovely chat,” Ghostbur said with a smile, “but I’m afraid I have to go. I’m sure we can catch up on all the horrible things you want to tell me later, but I know you’ll be happy with me soon. Bye-bye!” 

Fundy just stood there frozen in place, as Ghostbur floated right through the walls. Running away, _again_. His fingernails bit into his palms with a satisfying sting, and the more he tried to steady his breathing, the harder it got. His throat felt like it was closing up, making the slow descent to starving him of air. 

“Fundy? Are you there?” Phil asked, his hand brushing against Fundy’s shoulder. 

The fox boy forced himself to draw his gaze away from the hole he was drilling into the spot Wilbur had last been and to the gentle eyes of Phil. 

“I want to get out of here,” Fundy said with a grunt, attempting to hold back an embarrassing sob. 

Philza only nodded and ushered him out of the door. 

<><><>

Technoblade and Tommy were in L’Manburg. 

But Tommy was dead, right? 

Well, apparently not, because he was currently laughing as a wither wreaked havoc on L’Manburg yet again. Ranboo and Fundy were the only people to witness the attack, other than the perpetrators. And when Ranboo ran off to grab Techno’s stuff, Fundy single-handedly fought off the wither. The wither star glistened under the darkness, and with little thought, Fundy put it in the nearest ender chest, safe. 

“Wait, which one of you has the nether star?” Technoblade question, the orphan obliterator glimmering in his hand. 

_How ironic,_ Fundy thought, there was a prime chance he would lose a canon life to the _orphan_ obliterator. But Fundy wouldn’t give up that nether star easily. He had rightfully won that. 

“Fundy, do you have the nether star?” Tommy questioned. 

“What, I—I fought that thing. It was in L’Manburg and I killed it, so-” 

“You see, Fundy,” Techno snarled, “Those were my last wither skulls, so I’m going to need you to give me the star, _now_.” 

Fundy backed up into the corner of the room, his eyes flicking between Ranboo, Tommy, and Techno. Each of their faces displaying a different countenance. That’s when Tommy started hitting him, and it was a similar experience to his first death, fire catching on the ends of his exposed clothes. 

“Oh, does this do a lot of damage bitch boy?” Tommy asked with a smile. 

“YES!” Fundy yelped out, “Please, I—just stop, please! I already put it away, I already put it away!” 

Tommy stopped hitting him, but Technoblade was rather insistent that he had to have it on him. 

“Just let me get—let me get it! I’ll get it, just let me get it. I don’t have it on me!” 

“No,” Techno sighed, “You have it. And I’m going to commit so much terrorism if you don’t hand it over.” 

“I swear, I swear I put it away. I don’t have it on me,” Fundy’s voice trembled, just waiting for someone to hit him again, “Please, I _swear_ , just let me grab it for you.” 

“If you don’t have it, who does?” 

“It’s in my ender chest!” 

He was so anxious that he hadn’t even noticed that Tommy was placing blocks around him, effectively trapping him inside a box. 

“Maybe this’ll motivate you, huh?” Tommy laughed, pouring a bucket of water into the hole, then covering it up. Fundy let out a gasp, as he realized they were trying to drown him. 

But _why_? He had been nothing but compliant, he just needed an ender chest, why wouldn’t they let him have an ender chest. Fundy shut his eyes and banged on the sides of the stone, praying to whatever to save him. They terrified him. His heart pounding in his ears. 

Light poured into the box, and Fundy swam up for air as Tommy collected the water into a bucket. 

“TALK!” Tommy yelled, “Tell us where the discs are!” 

_The discs?_ What the fuck did the discs have to do with this? 

“I—I know nothing about the discs, please, just let me get to an ender ch-” 

“YOU DO KNOW! TELL US,” 

“I swear, I don’t know! I don’t know!” 

Vikkstar was apparently here now because he started breaking the blocks that trapped Fundy. 

“Fundy, just give them the star!” Ranboo yelled from the side, his voice laced with fear, “It’ll be the least violent way.” 

“I’m fucking trying!” Fundy replied. “I need a fucking ender chest, how many more times do I have to tell you.” 

Techno rolled his eyes as he placed down an ender chest. Fundy practically jumped on the thing, opening it and grabbing the glowing little star. 

“You promise you won’t hurt me,” Fundy asked, his hands shaking. 

“Promise,” 

Fundy threw it down, a sigh of relief slipping out of his mouth. But then Tommy shoved him back into the corner, the same malicious smile on his lips. 

“Where. Are. The. Discs?” Tommy asked again, each word emphasized by the tightening of an arrow on a bowstring. 

Fundy gulped, willing his voice to be calm, “I—I don’t know. I already told you, I don’t know.” 

“You have to know something!” Tommy screamed again, hitting Fundy with the butt of his sword. 

Techno placed an arm on Tommy’s shoulder, “Relax, man, I don’t think he knows.” 

And for some reason, that was his breaking point. Not Phil telling Fundy he was dead to him. Not Ghostbur being a prick. Not the withers. Just all the pressure being put on him for no reason. He started sobbing, crying part because he was absolutely terrified and part because he was hoping they’d feel guilty. I mean, Tommy was still a person after all. 

And it kind of worked. Tommy recoiled and listened to Techno’s statements about how he made Fundy cry. Ranboo stayed put but offered his own two cents. 

“He doesn’t know,” Ranboo restated, which put the attention on him long enough for Vikkstar to break the ground below Fundy. He was trying to offer him an escape, but Fundy was too distraught. His head hurt as he slipped beneath the water of the lake. It was peaceful under the water. He blinked as people jumped in after him, their words muffled. Fundy felt like he could breathe under the water, even though it meant drowning, he thought it would be preferable to the hell he was being put through. 

Then muscular arms wrapped around his torso and tugged him upwards. Fundy took a staggering breath of air in, coughing and sputtering bits of water out of his mouth. He laid on the ground for some time, just breathing and staring up at the night sky. 

“Oh, Icarus, Icarus,” Techno said with a sigh, “You may have remembered to avoid the sun, but the water will ruin your wings too.” 

Fundy groaned at the reference to his Greek counterpart, utterly annoyed at Techno for referring to him again. 

The ever-persistent Tommy lifted Fundy up by his shirt and gave him a glare. 

“Look now that you’ve calmed down and almost drowned, can you please tell me something, anything about the discs,” 

Fundy rolled his eyes, “I already told you I-” 

Fundy cut himself off, glancing over to Ranboo, who had the same look on his face. 

“Ranboo, you don’t think-” 

“Maybe? I don’t know though,” 

Tommy grinned, jumping excitedly, “You don’t think what!?” 

“There’s a festival, tomorrow,” Fundy started, looking at Ranboo for guidance, “Dream will be there, he might know something.” 

“Aha!” Tommy exclaimed with a laugh, “Perfect! Alright, Blade, let’s get out of here.” 

Techno didn’t respond, he just waved and dragged Tommy off in the opposite direction. 

When Fundy had the energy to look up at his friends, they circled around him. Vikkstar offered him a golden apple, which Fundy accepted gratefully. 

“I’m glad you didn’t drown,” Ranboo said, sitting down next to Fundy. They stared out at the lake, “You would have drowned in your own tears.” 

“Ha,” Fundy sighed, “The Lake of Tears.” 

God, what had he done. 

<><><>

Fundy had never felt so alone. In all his time on his server, he had felt lots of betrayals and hurt, but he always knew there were people in his corner. Now he wasn’t so sure. Ranboo had called him a coward, but Ranboo was being a hypocrite. 

_“Choose people, not sides.”_

Why couldn’t anyone ever choose him? 

Nobody gave two shits about what Fundy had to say about anything. He could talk and share all he wants, and all he’d get in return is blank stares and polite laughter. People still think of him as a child, as Wilbur’s failure, as nothing but a naïve and childish hybrid. Fundy wanted to be so much more, though. He wanted people to be proud of him; he wanted people to love and choose him; he wanted people to care! 

Fundy had flown too close to the sun in order for people to see him, but all it did was make them blind. 

So then he flew too close to the sea, and the water was too violent for them to get close. 

It seemed like the only place Fundy could be safe and seen was in the cage that had been built for him, and Fundy was so sick of cages. 

So he unlocked the door and watched as Niki burned the L’Mantree. Fundy needed to free himself of all his cages, so he ran. With no particular destination in mind, all he knew was he would avoid the fucking sun and fucking water for as long as he could. Fundy didn’t want to fall anymore. He didn’t want to be Icarus. 

-

Icarus, Icarus, why must you fly? 

Icarus, Icarus, why must you die? 

With your wings made of wax, 

And a freedom sublime. 

Icarus, Icarus, you’re so full of lies.

So with one final look at the sea and the skies. 

Icarus, or Fundy, the fox man cried; 

“If I can’t make them smile, then I’ll make them cry.” 

_Fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> If you enjoyed, feel free to leave a kudos or comment. They mean a lot to me. 
> 
> This chapter is so long for no reason, and I'm both happy and wildly unsatisfied with how it turned out. At this point, I'm just happy to be done with it so I can move on lol. Also, Tommy's stream hurt me in ways I cannot describe, so I finished this chapter as a way to cope. - Mellohi

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> If you enjoyed it please leave a kudos or a comment! I'd love to hear your own thoughts on this topic. 
> 
> Have a lovely morning, afternoon, evening, or night! - Mellohi


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